THE UNIVERSE WOULD BE THE SAME

The urge to write -

why? 

To be, 

to exist,

              briefly,

outside the confines

of one's own self,

this doomed flesh,

beyond others' memories

                          and thoughts

in which they weave

a figure not quite

like us, 

             better

             or worse,

to be

in a fragmentary

form in these poems,

a presence

                   touching

                   the reader's mind -

what is the point?

To create for the sake

of creating, to share

because a human

being

           is a social animal

inclined to sharing,

into seeking connection,

even beyond their own

                       existence?

From the pictures drawn

on the walls of caves

to this poem.

Because of the illusion

that there is eternity

and immortality

in these words

and sentences

soon wiped clear,

like their ephemeral writer?

All of that,

all of that,

no matter that the self

knows 

            one might as well

            be silent

and the universe

would be the same.

But briefly,

                   briefly

it was different to us

and for someone else.

27.04.2025

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